All undertakings in society are directed by people, and are therefore called human affairs. Yet people can create all kinds of undertakings only by starting from thought. Thus, the mind is the directing center of human life; it is also the directing center of all things.

A person's wisdom or foolishness is the wisdom or foolishness of the mind; thoughts, plans, discriminations, and actions are all mind. Cleverness is called wisdom, dullness is called foolishness, yet the mind itself is the same. All culture in society is established by mind, and all learning is likewise devised by mind.

Yet people in the world still do not understand what the mind actually is. They merely know it as an operation of the brain, or say that it is an activity within the heart, and call the thoughts and ideas that arise from it the mind. As for how the mind is stimulated and how thoughts arise, the principle is utterly mysterious. Therefore, we must speak of the mind.

The mind is the element most intimately connected with human life. If one does not understand the mind, one does not understand oneself; and then one also does not understand the origin of all undertakings. Not understanding is confusion, and all evil and inversion arise from confusion. When good and evil are inverted, people can scarcely survive. Thus psychology is the study of human life, for it is the greatest element in human life, the greatest problem in society, and the greatest field of learning in academic circles.

To understand the mind, one must first understand what the mind is. Once the mind is understood, everything is resolved. Some say that the mind is thought, and that thought arises in the brain; others say it arises in the heart. But neither explanation is quite right. Let us examine the matter carefully.

Consider a generator: from boiler-sized wheels to tiny tubes and screws, every part belongs to the complete mechanism. None can be lacking; one cannot separate them into whole and partial, important and unimportant, because the entire system functions as one. The organization of the human body is likewise so. Through the circulation of blood and vital energy, the whole body supports the emergence of intelligence.

One cannot say that it is solely the brain, nor can one say that it is solely the heart; for without the liver, intestines, kidneys, and stomach, the mind does not arise. When thought occurs, however, vital energy rises upward, and there is simply somewhat more force in the brain. Moreover, the physical heart and the thinking mind are both called xin, and this is why such debate arises.

People also often imagine that thought resides in the belly, taking this to mean that the mind is in the “heart.” They do not realize that people habitually cling to a self. Because the sensation of hunger is most painful, they point to the middle of the chest and take that to be themselves. Furthermore, because the central region is least able to endure suffering and must be protected with special care, people unconsciously come to say that the mind is in the “heart.” (Note: 心 denotes the psychological mind; “心” denotes the physical heart.)

I shall make another comparison with water. Water is originally still, but because the ground has high and low places, it flows downward. Water is originally without waves, but waves arise because of wind; the waves arise from water. Since the water is all from the same pond, one cannot say that this water can form waves while that water cannot. This shows that it is a matter of the whole. The activation of mind is likewise a function of the whole.

When a person is exhausted and lies on a bed, at a time when not a single thought arises and the limbs are relaxed, one is wholly unaware of oneself. Suddenly, a mosquito bites one's leg, and a sensation arises. This sensation is the self; it is the mind. Where does that mind arise? Does it arise in the leg? And why then does the whole body begin to feel itchy?

When the physical body deteriorates through illness, there are approximately seven stages of change. First comes stagnation, that is, stagnation of vital energy. Second comes obstruction, namely obstruction of the blood. Third comes soreness: obstruction within the muscles and sinews, by which the illness advances another stage. Fourth is pain; fifth, numbness; sixth, deadness; seventh, death. When deadness and death are reached, blood and vital energy can no longer arrive, and nervous activity also stops. This shows that the mind's awareness pervades the whole body; it is not confined to the brain and heart alone.

But if the mind pervades the entire body, why are there passages and blockages, obstructions and stagnations, within the body? Why are there comings and goings, awareness and unawareness, arrival and non-arrival? This further shows that mind and body are two things, capable of separating and joining. Electricity and an electrical generator are likewise capable of separating and joining: when the machine operates, electricity is present; when it does not operate, it is absent. Electricity is electricity, and the machine is the machine; they are still two things. Water and waves are similarly separate yet inseparable, inseparable yet separate. While functioning, they seem to be one; when not functioning, they are again two.

Since mind and body cannot be completely separated, they must certainly be one thing. But why, when the body is maimed or incomplete, are one's thoughts entirely unimpaired? This shows that they can still be separated. The body is body, and the mind is mind: the body can die, but the mind does not die. It is like an electric lamp: the lamp can be damaged, but electricity does not perish. It is also like water and waves: waves come and go, but water ultimately neither changes nor ceases.

The body is something borrowed for the mind's use. Without a body, the mind is like a dream, known only to itself. Without mind, the body is like a corpse: it cannot move at all and is no different from wood or stone. Thus, although a person's speech and actions outwardly belong to the body, their governing subject is still the mind.

Therefore, everything in the universe is encompassed within the mind. Unless there is something with which it may be compared, it can only be compared with space. All the great things one can name—great mountains, the earth, the sun, moon, and stars filling the heavens—are contained within space, and are likewise contained within the mind. Yet space itself is contained within the mind. Clearly, nothing is greater than the mind.

Space can only be vast; it cannot become small. But the mind can be large or small. When large, it is immeasurable and boundless; when small, it is like the eye of a needle, and can become smaller still by a million million times.

The mind is without form, yet it is not a thing of nothingness. It can only be compared with food, such as vegetables or bamboo shoots. Vegetables and bamboo shoots can be seen, but their fresh flavor cannot be seen. You cannot take it to be nonexistent merely because it cannot be seen. Nor can you say that it truly exists merely because its flavor can be tasted. For the flavor of vegetables and bamboo shoots does not exist independently; it arises only when they meet the tongue. Thus the mind is neither empty nor existent; its existence is only provisional. It is also said that true emptiness is not empty, and wondrous presence is not existent. Only then is the mind supremely numinous and wondrous.

When the body deteriorates or becomes disabled, the mind does not deteriorate, because it is imperishable. A broken vase remains broken forever and cannot be restored. But the mind is not so. Yesterday it may have been extremely evil, yet today it may suddenly become good; this shows that yesterday's badness was not truly bad. Today it may become good, yet tomorrow it may suddenly become bad again; this shows that today's goodness is not truly good either.

For the mind is neither bad nor good; it changes in response to changing circumstances. It is like electric light shining on white cloth: now it appears red, then black, but it is not truly red or black. The cloth is originally white, neither red nor black. Thus the mind is originally pure, neither good nor evil, and is therefore called numinous and wondrous.

Only after understanding how the mind is can one investigate its source. As for where mind comes from, most people know that it arises in dependence on circumstances. For example, when the eyes see forms and the ears hear sounds, discrimination and reflection arise: this is mind. Again, a bell does not originally ring, though it can ring. If someone strikes it with a stick, it then resounds. The stick is the external circumstance, and the resounding sound is the stirring of mind. But what is the bell itself? Most people take it to be the physical body. This is a great and especially serious error; yet this principle is of the utmost importance.

In general, every human being and every animal possesses a nature, called spiritual nature. Only when spiritual nature joins with the body does there become a living person. When spiritual nature departs, there is a dead person. When spiritual nature is disordered, there is a deranged person. When spiritual nature is clear, there is a wise person. Spiritual nature is like the resonant substance of a bell: the bell's form is the physical body, and its resounding sound is the mind.

Again, water may be compared to nature, and waves to mind: waves cannot become waves apart from water. The sound of a bell comes and goes suddenly; the waves of water are sometimes present and sometimes absent. Ultimately, they cannot be grasped. Yet water and the resonant substance remain unmoving, unchanging, unborn, and undying.

Therefore, nature is unborn and undying, whereas mind illusorily arises and illusorily ceases. Nature is the mirror, and mind is the image; nature is the essence, and mind is the function. In terms of essence they are one; in terms of function they are two. Yet in truth they are neither one nor two.

Therefore, people have three bodies. First is the physical body; because it has form, it is also called the form body. Second is the Dharma body, which is nature. It is called the Dharma body because all dharmas in the universe arise from this nature. Third is the transformation body, which is the illusory activity of the stirring mind: all seeing, hearing, feeling, knowing, walking, standing, sitting, lying down, and the various transformations are therefore called the transformation body. These three bodies may also be compared to a lamp: the physical body is the lamp, the Dharma-nature body is electricity, and the transformation body is light. They are three yet one, one yet three; in truth, they are neither one nor three.

Therefore, to understand that nature is constant and unchanging, that mind comes and goes illusorily, and that essence and function are nondual, is called realizing the mind and seeing one's true nature.

Nature is beyond speech and cannot be seen; one can rely only on mind. Every activity of mind is precisely an expression of nature. All the mental processes discussed below are precisely the resonant sounds of mind issuing forth from nature. Listeners need not forcefully divide them into two, nor need they rigidly cling to them as one.

The mind's transformations and functions are truly immeasurable and boundless. At present, the idealist and materialist schools in the world argue fiercely, yet they are in fact speaking of one and the same mind.

Wei means thought, and wei means basis. Thought and basis alike are matters of mind thinking and relying. The various inventions of science depend on human thought and on investigating matter as a basis. Without object A, object B could not be invented; yet the initial point still begins from thought.

Therefore, once one speaks of wei—whether written 惟, 唯, or 维—one is already speaking of mind. Why divide into two schools? The study of mind-only is, after all, only one branch of learning. The mind is the common master of both the mind-only and matter-only schools. The scope of this book is solely to discuss the mind. The foregoing has discussed the essence of mind; what follows discusses its resounding transformations, its function.

The mind is divided into three kinds: wholesome, unwholesome, and neither wholesome nor unwholesome, which is called the indeterminate mind.

The mind may further be divided into three aspects. First is the unmoving mind: this is the essential substance of one’s nature, whole and undifferentiated, unmoving and unchanging. Second is the dependently arising mind: thoughts arise only in reliance on objects before it. Third is the discriminating, grasping mind: it clings to objects and engages in all kinds of deliberation and pervasive calculation, distinguishing right and wrong, favorable and adverse, self and others, good and evil, and so forth without end. The minds of worldly people never go beyond these three aspects. Yet because they are too busy and confused by outward things, they instead forget their own essential nature.

How, then, are we to speak of the unborn and undying nature and the mind’s illusory coming and going? For example, when I close my eyes and settle my mind, not a single thought arises. Suddenly, a person appears before my eyes, and there is then a person in the image of my mind. If this image is said to arise from myself, it exists because of that person; without that person, it would not exist. If it is said to arise from the other person, then the thought and image are in me, not in that person. These two arise interdependently;

they cannot be attributed solely to me, solely to the other person, or to both together, for who, after all, is the subject? Thus, when it comes, one never knows whence it comes; when it arises, one never knows whence it arises. This is why it is called unborn.

After seeing the person, a tiger suddenly appears, and the image in my mind changes into a tiger. But where has the image of the person I just saw gone? When an object comes, it must have a place from which it comes; when it goes, it must have a direction in which it goes. Where, ultimately, has it ceased? This is why it is called undying. Within this unborn and undying nature, the mind suddenly appears, flashing forth and illusorily coming and going. This is the principle involved.

The mind is something that feels, and so it is called the aware mind. The mind is highly accommodating, and so it is easily conditioned into habits. The mind is unstable, and so none of the principles in the world has a fixed definition. The mind works by comparison, and so everything in the world becomes relative.

The human body is fundamentally suffering; the fleshly body is something that can scarcely endure suffering. An ordinary human body weighs at least one hundred pounds, held together only by a thin layer of skin and sustained by a single breath.

Thus it can endure neither fullness nor hunger, neither heat nor cold, neither pain nor soreness nor itching. Even when speaking a single sentence, one can be neither too forceful nor too soft. Is this not suffering? The human body cannot bear hardship, and so it delights in gentleness and craves ease and comfort. It most prefers harmony, freedom, and comfort; consequently, gentle and pleasant things are the easiest to become addicted to.

This craving develops unnoticed. Because of craving, habits and comparisons arise; because of comparison, distinctions and disputes arise. Forgetting the reason why, people proceed to contention, scheming, and killing, moving ever farther from ease, harmony, and peace. Yet the mind that craves comfort does not disappear.

The worst feature of the mind is its comparative measuring. Take eating and drinking, for example. Today tofu does not taste good—not because today’s tofu is bad, but because yesterday one ate mushrooms. Why did the mushrooms taste good yesterday? Because the day before, one had eaten tofu. Yet tofu may sometimes taste good as well, because it has been well prepared.

At other times, even well-prepared mushrooms may not taste good, because one is already full. This shows that everything depends on comparison. It also shows that comparison is fundamentally unreliable. Yet people insist on comparing, because they seek ease and comfort and forget why they do so. Thus comparison ultimately brings suffering—the suffering of comparing without wisdom.

Because there is no wisdom, if mushrooms make you happy, you cannot help being happy; if tofu makes you suffer, you dare not avoid suffering. People become slaves to every kind of thing, with no mastery over their own minds. Are they not suffering people?

If one made no distinctions or comparisons in worldly affairs, then good and evil would not be distinguished, and right and wrong would disappear. That, too, is absolutely impossible. Thus, it is not that distinctions should be discarded, nor can comparison be entirely absent. One need only understand that their essential nature has no fixed definition, that they are fundamentally false, and avoid being deceived by them.

Why are they said to have no fixed definition? Take a bottle of chili sauce. Some people taste it and find it bitter, while others love it so much that they cannot bear to part with it and do not feel satisfied without it. This shows that the goodness or badness of chili sauce has no fixed definition; it is merely a distinction arbitrarily imposed by the human mind. Likewise, patriotism is a good thing, and strengthening national defenses is also a good thing. But if one invades another country without cause, arousing the suspicion and resistance of other nations and adding greatly to one’s own fears, patriotism turns instead into harm to one’s country. This shows that everything has no fixed definition.

If people understand that there are no fixed definitions and can make distinctions from a broader perspective—loving their country from that broader perspective—they will not suffer. Thus distinctions and comparisons are not themselves suffering; all the suffering of circumstances is not real suffering, nor is bodily suffering itself suffering. Only when one lacks wisdom, is driven by circumstances, and has no mastery over one’s mind is there real suffering.

Circumstances cannot drive me; rather, I myself cling to circumstances, draw them in for calculation and discrimination, and give rise to my own views. Thus inversion arises, and with it suffering.

When the mind is deluded by circumstances, this is called defilement of the mind, and it must be removed. It is like dust and grime on a mirror: when they are wiped away, the mirror is no longer dim. Yet dust and grime can be wiped off because they are separate things, whereas the mind is not so. The mind is like an image in a mirror: the image cannot be wiped away, nor does it damage the mirror. One need only turn to a clear understanding, and at once there is luminosity. Though confused afflictions arising in the mind are called defilements of the mind, they ultimately do not obstruct the essential nature. One need only recognize clearly that they are illusory empty images and not take them as real; then suffering and adversity naturally cease.

One may ask: if minds are alike, why do people differ in wisdom and foolishness? You should know that this is entirely because each person’s habits differ. A farmer is accustomed to farm work and understands every aspect of it; this is the farmer’s wisdom. Yet in reading and writing, the farmer may be foolish. A scholar who cannot till the fields displays the scholar’s foolishness. Thus oxen can bear heavy loads, horses can gallop, birds can fly, and fish can swim. People are absolutely inferior to dogs in their sense of smell and to flies in their olfactory sense, because the power of mind and habitual tendencies are each weighted differently.

Of all evils in the world, none is worse than a disordered mind. Thus, before committing murder or arson, people are often half drunk, for alcohol can strengthen their reckless and inverted courage. And among worldly evils, none is worse than throwing another person’s mind into disorder and causing that person to become inverted.

It is like the many pits: pits of wealth and profit, pits of romantic attachment, pits of words and writing, pits of ideologies and theories, and pits of various heterodox teachings. Once one falls into them, it is not easy to get out. There is another pit, the most poisonous of all: the pit of the view of self. Although people leap into many pits because of the view of self, they must still rely on the view of self to leap back out. Thus the mind is alternately awakened and deluded: delusion is leaping in, and awakening is leaping out. If one is truly awakened and recognizes it as a pit, one will never leap into it again.

The depth of a pit is the depth of one’s habitual tendencies. As people lessen their habitual tendencies, the pit naturally becomes shallower. When they can enter and leave it freely, the pit disappears altogether.

Human affairs are impermanent, and nothing has a fixed definition. When one supposes that something has a fixed definition and clings to it without letting go, that is delusion. When this is enacted outwardly, it becomes inversion.

If we are to strive in society, surpass all obstacles, and accomplish great undertakings of every kind, three conditions are indispensable.

First is the power of meditative stability. Once the mind is settled, one can observe subtle things, recognize opportunities keenly, and remain unmoved when encountering unwelcome events. This is fundamental. Second is the power of discernment. Because the mind is settled, understanding becomes especially clear, judgment becomes strong, and one will not be deceived when events arise. Third is physical strength. Those whose minds are settled will surely have harmonious vital energies and especially vigorous strength. Yet all three must be sought in the mind. This is what is meant by using mind to regulate mind and using mind to gather in mind. When the mind is gathered into one, there is nothing that cannot be accomplished.

All inversion in human affairs arises because people’s minds are unstable: they lose their mastery and are swept away by the tide of the times. Therefore, one must first cultivate the two words “not deluded.” First understand yourself. This is truly the greatest learning of human life, the foremost of all forms of learning. To understand oneself is to understand one’s own mind. Once one recognizes the features of mind and nature, everything is resolved.

The arising of mind depends on objects before it. External objects are of six kinds: forms, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile objects, and dharmas. Dharmas are principles: when one sees something and a principle arises from it, this is called a dharma. The inner mind also has six kinds: eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

When the inner mind comes into contact with external objects, the six consciousnesses arise: eye consciousness, ear consciousness, nose consciousness, tongue consciousness, body consciousness, and mind consciousness. Once consciousness has arisen, it divides into three categories: good, evil, and indeterminate. Thus human affairs become numerous and disputes never cease. (Indeterminate means neither good nor evil.)

Consciousness is knowledge. Knowledge must rely on real, formed things for investigation. For example, the various inventions of science develop a new principle on the basis of what already exists. But when mind is added to mind, and one gives rise to a principle from an imageless realm of ideals, this is called wisdom.

Wisdom considers matters from a broad perspective, contemplating fully and observing universally. It places the mind above all things, so that all things may be clearly examined within one’s mind without omission. It is great and far-reaching. Knowledge, by contrast, relies on things and studies them with concentrated attention, placing the mind within all things. Its scope is narrow and its inquiry detailed.

For example, the manufacture of airplanes and automobiles uses knowledge: without what already exists, one cannot invent what is new. But to employ airplanes and automobiles requires wisdom, for one must observe human morality and circumstances. If people lack morality, they will use science to do evil: cars will inevitably be used for sexual assault and theft, and airplanes for dropping bombs.

Ways must be devised to restrain such conduct; this requires wisdom—mind added to mind, consciousness added to consciousness. Pitifully, worldly people know only to seek knowledge and do not know to seek wisdom. Therefore humanity’s capacity for mutual assistance diminishes, while contention, killing, and terror increase. Social culture gradually declines, and human life becomes especially barren and desolate.

Worldly people merely see the progress of airplanes and take it to mean that civilization has progressed. This is inversion arising from a lack of wisdom. Without understanding a view of human life, the world will inevitably become one of robbers and beasts. War is the result of every evil and the most painful lesson of all human affairs. Yet even after receiving this lesson, people never all awaken; they fall into this pit of fire without even knowing it. This truly is one cause and one result of deluded karma.

Seeking peace and happiness is the sole original ground in the human mind. But the shorter a person's vision, the smaller and more impatiently pursued is the peace and happiness they seek.

Driven by their environment, people unconsciously develop several habits: first, an eagerness to seek wealth; second, a craving for convenience and ease; third, a desire for lucky gain. Beneath these three aims lies a fourth latent impulse: the urge to take what belongs to others.

Take gambling, for example. First, gamblers are bored and idle, with nothing on which to rest their minds, so they use it for diversion. Second, they hope to gain wealth by luck. Third, it is more comfortable than hard work and requires little thought. Fourth, it enables them to take what belongs to others. Once this habit is formed, no one fails to neglect their work and corrupt their intentions.

Adultery and theft between men and women also arise from this. Therefore, to save the nation, one must first save people's minds; and to save their minds, one must first prohibit gambling. The way to prohibit gambling is to provide noble forms of recreation, transform people's dispositions, and first enable them to realize their minds.

To seek peace and happiness, one must first understand cause and effect: whatever cause one plants, one necessarily receives its corresponding result. All human affairs in society are simply mutual assistance. To receive the result of others helping us, we must first plant the cause of helping them. Only when there are corresponding conditions can there be exchange and recompense.

The common psychology of people in society—whether sages above or thieves below—is always that they do not wish to be deceived. Even those who deceive others do not wish to be deceived themselves. This shows that deception is only a momentary act of self-delusion and self-deception; it is certainly not an enduring principle. Once a person plants the cause of deception, they cannot extricate themselves from it. It is like launching a boat into rushing water: rescue is truly difficult. Only those who realize their minds can understand cause and effect. Those who do not understand cause and effect are the most suffering people in the world.

Doing evil need not mean killing, stealing, or sexual misconduct. Before killing, stealing, or sexual misconduct occurs, there must be something that leads to it. The many luxuries of wealthy households, for instance, are enough to make the poor uneasy. From this arise people's desire for lucky gain, greed, and resentment; over time these foster theft and sexual misconduct. Half the cause is the lure of things, and half is one's own lack of understanding. Therefore, the most unfortunate children are those born into wealthy and noble families, and the lowliest people are those who are wealthy but uneducated.

Of all the sufferings in the world, none surpasses an unsettled mind, whether one is poor or rich. There is the suffering of not obtaining what one seeks, the suffering of separation from what one loves, and the suffering of encountering what one hates. In sum, why are there all these sufferings in which the mind burns like fire? Because there is some object before one: one either fears not gaining it or fears losing it, and is thus lured by things.

Someone may say, “I have loved antiques all my life. Does this not bring happiness and peace of mind? Why should I seek peace of mind further?” This reasoning is not wrong, but it is not ultimate. Antiques cannot be relied upon, for there are ultimately two sufferings of separation from what one loves: either they leave you, through loss, damage, and the like; or you leave them, as when you die. In the end, there will still be suffering.

Yet someone else may say, “My fondness for antiques is merely playing along with the occasion; I do not take it seriously.” This is glib speech and a false heart. If one asked him to give them up, he would refuse and immediately become alarmed. Thus he fundamentally does not understand, and in the end it is suffering. Worse still, he remains in suffering all day without knowing it to be suffering.

There is no fixed definition of what people seek as peace and happiness. Some seek wealth; some seek fame. Yet it never goes beyond seeking what accords with one's own wishes. If something does not accord with one's wishes, one may even forgo wealth; contentiousness itself is a demand that things accord with one's wishes. This shows that the view of self is most painful. People often litigate without end for years over trivial matters, become impoverished, and regret it when it is too late. This is the error of a momentary view of self. Was not the Second World War in Europe caused by the view of self?

Nothing is less durable than wealth; nothing passes more quickly than time; nothing is harder to know than when one has fallen asleep. Nothing is less dependable than life span; nothing is more muddled than the mind; nothing is more firmly clung to than the self; nothing is harder to distinguish front from back than glass; nothing is more undecided than a three-way crossroads; nothing is less understood than cause and effect; and nothing suffers more than one without blessings. Most laughable is being unable to get along with oneself; most foolish is deception; and most difficult yet most noble is realizing the mind and seeing one's true nature.

To accomplish any undertaking in society, one can never be apart from other people. The more people one employs, the higher one's position and the greater one's enterprise. Yet employing people does not depend entirely on money. First one must win people's hearts, and to win their hearts one must understand human feelings. For although people's minds are largely the same, their differences in particulars are exceedingly varied.

If one can accommodate their customs and habits, adapting oneself to them with flexibility and making them satisfied in every respect, they will surely unite and cooperate with one. The ancients said, “Benefit the people by means of what benefits them.” They also said, “The one word that may be practiced throughout one’s life is reciprocity.” The Book of Odes says, “Others have minds; you measure them.” This wholly consists in using one's own mind to enter into the minds of others. When mind accords with mind, it is called being of one mind. When two people are of one mind, this is called benevolence.

The wondrous functioning of the mind is immeasurable, and so too are the undertakings it creates. Everything begins with our own minds. The teachings established by the ancient sages have remained unchanged through the ages because the principles of mind and intrinsic nature never change. They are unlike science, which is renewed day by day, changing constantly. Yet although the substance of mind does not change, its functions undergo countless transformations.

Because environments undergo countless changes, yet all ultimately return to the single word “peace.” This principle can never change. I shall now set forth the methods for fully developing the mind and compare them with the sayings of the ancient sages.

— The mind should be dignified: “If a noble person is not grave, they will lack dignity.” It is also said, “When one approaches others with dignity, they will be respectful.”

— The mind should be harmonious: “In the practice of ritual propriety, harmony is most valuable.”

— The mind should be trustworthy: “Trustworthiness is close to righteousness; then one’s words can be honored.” It is also said, “Without trust, the people cannot stand.”

— The mind should be respectful: “Respectfulness is close to ritual propriety and keeps shame and humiliation at a distance.”

— The mind should be joyful: “Better than being poor yet joyful is being wealthy and fond of ritual propriety.”

— The mind should be gentle: “The Master attained this through being warm, good, respectful, frugal, and yielding.”

— The mind should be settled: “At forty, one is free from doubt.”

— The mind should be penetrating: “My Way is pervaded by one thread.” It is also said, “The Master's Way consists simply of loyalty and reciprocity.”

— The mind should be loyal: “In planning for others, have I not been loyal?”

— The mind should be clear: “If one hears the Way in the morning, one may die content in the evening.”

— The mind should be resolute: The Master said, “Zhang is full of desires; how can he be resolute?” He also said, “Only when the year grows cold does one know that pines and cypresses are the last to wither.” And again: “The commander of three armies may be taken away, but the will of a common person cannot be taken away.”

— The mind should be humble: “When the state lacks the Way, one should be humble; such humility is beyond reach.”

— The mind should be broad-minded: “Do not dwell on old wrongs, and resentments will be few.” It is also said, “In great virtues, do not overstep the bounds; in minor virtues, some coming and going is permissible.”

— The mind should be straightforward: “To conceal resentment while befriending the person—I would be ashamed of that, as Zuo Qiuming was ashamed of it.”

— The mind should be modest: “May I have no boastfulness about my goodness and no display of my labor.”

— The mind should be benevolent: “The benevolent delight in mountains. The benevolent are tranquil; the benevolent live long.” It is also said, “If for one day one restrains oneself and returns to ritual propriety, all under heaven will return to benevolence.”

— The mind should be wise: “The wise delight in water. The wise are active; the wise are joyful.”

— The mind should be adaptable: “When employed, one acts; when set aside, one remains hidden.”

— The mind should be diligent: “I was not born with knowledge; I am one who loves antiquity and diligently seeks it.” It is also said, “Study as though one could never catch up, and still fear losing what one has attained.”

— The mind should be constant: “To treat what is absent as present, emptiness as fullness, and poverty as abundance—how difficult it is to be constant!”

— The mind should be reverent: “When one makes one's bearing respectful, one thereby keeps violence and arrogance at a distance.”

— The mind should be upright: “Surely it is the rectification of names. When one makes one's expression upright, one comes close to trustworthiness.”

— The mind should be steadfast: “The noble person remains steadfast even in poverty.” It is also said, “When facing a great moral crisis, one cannot be robbed of one's resolve.”

— The mind should be resolute: “A scholar cannot but be broad-minded and resolute, for the burden is heavy and the Way is long.”

— The mind should be responsive: “If one hates a person who lacks benevolence too intensely, disorder will result.”

— The mind should be empty: “The Master avoided four things: arbitrary speculation, dogmatism, obstinacy, and self-centeredness.”

— The mind should be great: “The wise are free from doubt, the benevolent are free from worry, and the courageous are free from fear.” It is also said, “First establish oneself in what is great.”

— The mind should be forgiving: “Do not impose on others what you yourself do not desire.”

— The mind should be discerning: “One whom slanders that seep in and accusations that strike the flesh do not affect may be called discerning indeed.”

— The mind should be generous: “The noble person brings to completion the good in others and does not bring to completion their evil.”

— The mind should be centered: “As a virtue, the Mean is surely supreme.”

— The mind should be at ease: “The noble person is at ease without arrogance; the petty person is arrogant without ease.”

— The mind should be sincere: “Speak with loyalty and trustworthiness; act with earnest respect. Then even in the lands of the uncivilized tribes, one will prevail!”

— The mind should be farsighted: “If a person has no long-range concerns, they will surely have immediate troubles.”

— The mind should be modest: “Be strict with oneself and lenient in blaming others; then one will keep resentment at a distance.”

— The mind should be decisive: “Clever speech confuses virtue; failure to endure small matters ruins great plans.” It is also said, “When all hate someone, one must examine the matter; when all like someone, one must examine the matter.” And again: “In the presence of benevolence, do not yield even to one’s teacher.”

— The mind should be guarded: “The noble person has three cautions: in youth, when the vital energies are not yet settled, guard against sexual desire; in maturity, when the vital energies are strong, guard against contention; in old age, when the vital energies decline, guard against acquisitiveness.”

— The mind should be expansive: “The noble person honors the worthy and accommodates the many, praises goodness, and shows compassion toward those who lack ability.”

— The mind should be put to use: “To eat one's fill all day and apply one's mind to nothing—this is difficult indeed.” It is also said, “The noble person has nine reflections: in seeing, reflect on clarity; in hearing, reflect on acuity; in expression, reflect on gentleness; in bearing, reflect on respectfulness; in speech, reflect on loyalty; in affairs, reflect on reverence; when in doubt, reflect on asking; when angry, reflect on the difficulties that may follow; and when seeing gain, reflect on righteousness.” It is also said, “Respectfulness brings freedom from regret; generosity wins the people. Trustworthiness makes others entrust one with responsibility; diligence brings achievement; and kindness enables one to employ others.”

— The Mind Must Be at Peace “The noble person is broad-minded and at ease; the petty person is ever anxious.” It is also said: “Gentle yet stern, dignified yet not fierce, respectful yet at ease.” And again: “To be poor without resentment is difficult.”

The forty kinds of mind discussed above are all wondrous functions of the mind. I have specially cited these choice sayings from the Analects to bring this out: from self-cultivation through regulating the family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world, there is nowhere that the mind is not used. When the mind expresses itself outwardly, it is like the stately sound of bells and drums, resonating everywhere. It neither departs from the instrument nor is hindered by it; hence this essay is called Heart-Huang.

The mind’s wondrous functioning lies in its flexibility: it can expand or contract, accept or reject, yet never lose its original nature. It is like rubber: however one may manipulate it, it can be made square or round, stretched eastward or westward. But once released, it returns to its original form.

The mind is something from which one can never escape. Once sent forth, whether near or far—near before one’s eyes or as far away as Europe and America—it returns at once with a single turn. It is like a rubber band: no matter how far or how long you stretch it, once you let go, it contracts back and remains here. This is because the mind is a numinous, wondrous thing that illusorily arises and ceases, neither coming nor going.

The fundamental substance of mind is the same in everyone. In seeing forms and hearing sounds, we are all of one substance; only our likes, anger, preferences, and aversions differ, and these are habits. What are called habits are the mind’s performances. Let me cite several kinds:

· Greedy mind: greedily seeking without satisfaction; this is excessive aggressiveness.

· Non-greedy mind: this means being without desire for everything, to the point of becoming lazy and lax even in what one ought to diligently pursue; this is excessive passivity.

· Resentful mind: because one cannot obtain what one greedily seeks, one blames Heaven and others.

· Kindly mind: this is sentimental indulgence, like the saying, “A small lack of forbearance ruins great plans.”

· Deluded mind: this is confusion, unable to distinguish good from evil or right from wrong.

· Petty cleverness: using one’s own limited, narrow views to judge great matters.

· Suspicious mind: because one takes one’s own gains and losses too seriously and fears being disadvantaged, one becomes hesitant and unable to decide.

· Hasty mind: impatient and careless people make rash decisions without asking whether a matter is right or wrong, proper or improper.

· Obscure mind: those who are excessively suspicious where there is no need for suspicion are the most numerous and pitiable people in the world. This is also called a muddled mind.

· Bright mind: this means examining things excessively, so that one cannot achieve completeness instead.

· Fixated mind: the mind is exclusively concentrated on one matter and regards everything else as unacceptable.

· Contentious mind: delighting in argument and forceful disputation, thereby making right and wrong indistinguishable.

· Litigious mind: inwardly arguing with oneself, thinking and rethinking without end.

· Non-litigious mind: being too lacking in one’s own standpoint and unable to make clear decisions.

· Heaven-directed mind: seeking everything from nature, making no strenuous effort, and waiting for things to come of themselves; this lapses into laissez-faire.

· Human mind: being overly clear-cut about favors and resentments, and too deeply attached to the distinction between self and others, so that life loses its vitality.

· Womanish mind: a person whose desires are excessive.

· Merchant’s mind: planning too thoroughly and examining matters in excessive detail, thereby missing the opportunity.

· Farmer’s mind: like a farmer cultivating the soil, one seeks to understand every detail before applying effort. One does not strive to advance far, but merely enters into ideals and loses practical accomplishment.

· River mind: like river water that leans upon both banks, it has no settled view of its own.

· Pond mind: like a pond that takes in everything, it craves abundance but lacks concentration.

· Well mind: like a well that goes deep, a person’s thinking is profound and unfathomable.

· Guarding mind: guarding too strictly and thus unable to bear great responsibilities.

· Controlling mind: knowing only self-interest and not recognizing others.

· Dog mind: being satisfied with little and unwilling to advance further; this is a sign of meager blessings.

· Factional mind: delighting in forming cliques and pursuing private interests, valuing power above all and disregarding the major gains and losses at stake.

· Rat mind: delighting in petty destruction and doing things of no benefit.

· Ornamental mind: concerned only with literary embellishment and not with practical learning.

· Drum mind: rushing forward like a drumbeat, with excessive enthusiasm and no discernment of advantage or harm.

· Lion mind: recklessly bold, regarding nothing under heaven as difficult.

· Night mind: favoring the darkness of night, liking to dwell alone, and taking no pleasure in liveliness.

· Bird mind: constantly giving rise to fear and suspicion; even toward good friends, one becomes distrustful.

· Thorn mind: a strange and malign mind that makes others uneasy.

· Wind mind: as unsettled as the wind and unable to concentrate on one thing.

· Water mind: excessively inclined toward purity, too severe in removing evil, and thereby becoming impure instead.

· Plank mind: like a plank in water, with only limited capacity to carry things; when there is too much, it can accept no more. This is to abandon oneself.

· Bewildered mind: muddled and confused, unable even to distinguish east from west.

· Wooden mind: cruel and callous, numb to the suffering of others, with no liveliness of mind.

· Cloud mind: constantly burdened with worries like clouds.

· Field mind: like weeding a field, it refers to those who delight in embellishment while doing things of no benefit.

· Razor mind: polishing only the surface and not seeking to resolve matters at their root.

· Haughty mind: arrogant and self-important, seeing no one else.

· Sea mind: like the sea that contains everything, wanting everything to be exhausted in oneself alone.

· Leaking mind: like a vessel with holes that leaks; one’s words, conduct, and actions are not carried through, and one is unfit for use.

The mind cannot truly be measured or counted. These forty-four kinds have only been briefly cited; together they are called the monkey mind, because the human mind is inverted and unsettled like a monkey, producing so many distinctions. But how can it be remedied? One need only recognize the root of the illness: in all things, gathering in the mind is primary. Gather the mind into one, and then the mind can know the mind. One will understand all the right and wrong, proper and improper, of one’s entire life, and find ways to deal with every undertaking in society.

Confucius said: “Give peace to the old, inspire trust in friends, and cherish the young.” These three sayings truly encompass the way of loyalty and empathy; they penetrate human feelings and comprehend ultimate principle. For the elderly seek peace of mind; ordinary people find security in not being deceived; and the young find security in receiving protection.

If everyone could act in this way, humanity in the world would have no fear. Would this not bring about great peace? Therefore, after reading Heart-Huang, if one can extend one’s own mind to understand the minds of others, the great calamities that pervade the world can henceforth be eliminated, and one’s own household can attain lasting peace and security. Only this is truly to dispel calamities and prolong life. This is the original intention of my writing this essay.

The greatest matter in the world today is preparation for war. A nation must devote two-thirds or even four-fifths of its economy to military preparedness. How bitter this is! The reason given for preparing for war is still the pursuit of national security; the original intention is armed peace. Yet they do not realize that to seek the result of peace through the cause of armament is utterly perverse. My present aim of striving to eliminate war is likewise to seek national security, and its value truly exceeds that of preparing for war. Yet those who sympathize with it are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. By the time people have suffered enough to think of what I have said, it will already be too late.

There is no lack of perceptive people in the world, yet once they stand on opposing sides, even their own mental orientation becomes confused. When will people in the world recognize that this book is a book of unsurpassed value? Once they do, world peace will not be far away. People’s greedy and angry minds, their suspicious and jealous minds, and their murderous minds may perhaps then be somewhat restrained.

I wish to elucidate Confucius’s sage intent. Let us first discuss how to make “the young cherish us”; this is the first chapter. Young people generally have several kinds of mentality:

1. Children and youths are most candid. Few things have been impressed upon their minds, so if you tell them not to lie, they truly do not lie. But once they see someone else lie, they begin lying from then on.

2. Young people are candid in mind and mostly straightforward by nature. They are rich in fellow feeling, and so their passions are easily stirred and their will easily shaken.

3. Because young people are candid, there is little stored in their minds. They are therefore also highly curious and wish to imitate everything they encounter.

4. Because young people are inclined to imitate, they develop all kinds of comparative and competitive impulses.

5. Because young people have many comparative and competitive impulses, they often cannot decide for themselves what is right or wrong. Added to this is their impatient temperament, so they disregard all consequences and are easily led into causing disorder. Only after much experience do they come to understand, but by then they have reached middle age.

If we wish to give peace and reassurance to young people, we must provide several kinds of nurture:

1. Foster in them enduring morality.

2. Foster their power of meditative stability, so that they are not swayed by circumstances.

3. Foster their physical strength, so that they do not fall ill. (Readers may consult the previously published article in this journal, “Diamond Longevity.”)

4. Foster their power of discernment, so that they gain abundant experience.

5. Be attentive to their psychology and guide them according to circumstances. On the one hand, restrain their blind conformity and rash advance; on the other, guard against their various forms of corruption.

Therefore education must be emphasized, with moral education as primary, physical education as secondary, and other technical skills and means of livelihood as applications. As for such matters as romantic disappointment between men and women, if morality is emphasized, such suffering will disappear as well.

Chapter Two: Make “friends trust us.” To make friends trust us, we must first act from sincerity. The most important matter is to understand human feelings, but people occupy different positions, and their feelings therefore differ as well. Trust does not refer merely to trustworthiness; it must also include righteousness. Only with trust and righteousness can relationships endure. Since relationships between people differ, the righteousness appropriate to them also differs. The righteousness between father and son cannot be applied to friends, nor can that between brothers be applied to husband and wife. Moreover, even among friends, righteousness differs according to the nature of their relationship.

In their basic disposition, no one does not wish to gain an advantage, and no one is willing to suffer even a slight loss. Because each clings to a self, neither side is willing to yield, and so they contend with one another. If people take yielding as a virtue, they can teach everyone to yield. Yet yielding must have its principles; hence there must be courteous deference, and courtesy must have proper limits. Thus there must be decorum. Once there is decorum, the two sides will naturally come together, each yielding to the other, and disputes will not arise.

Extending this point, so long as you are willing to yield your rights to others and uphold them through benevolence and righteousness, there will be nowhere you cannot go and nothing you cannot accomplish.

Take national systems, for example: they change in countless ways. You have one proposal, I have another opinion; now monarchy, now republic, now communism—but what use are they in the end? The people still suffer and remain unemployed as before. Their many theories of saving the nation and its people all speak of benevolence, righteousness, morality, and virtue; yet in practice human desires run rampant. There may be methods of governance, but there are no people capable of governing. Since there are no such people, and the methods of governance are thereby rendered ineffective, the more they struggle, the worse things become.

When people promote an ideology, they use power to support their attachment to self and develop their own doctrine. They are not seeking to understand human feelings, harmonize with the minds of sentient beings, and relieve their suffering.

The human mind is restless and must be regulated. This is not oppression of freedom; it is precisely a means of correcting madness and preventing people from running amok. Since loving ease and loathing labor, seeking temporary comfort and muddling along, are common human tendencies, some restrictions are unavoidable. Yet rashly imposing restrictions from without is still not a thorough solution.

The essential thing is to enable people to transform their views and become equal in spirit. If their views can be equal, then equality can be put into practice outwardly in every respect. For example, one who has one measure of ability should contribute one measure of ability; one who has ten measures of ability should contribute ten measures. When everyone gives their full strength, they may then receive equal enjoyment. This is true equality.

Conversely, if we say that, regardless of each person's original abilities, everyone must exert five measures of effort, this would be exceedingly painful for one who originally has only one measure of ability, while it would be exceedingly easy for one who has ten measures of ability. This too is false equality, not true equality. Therefore, merely establishing communism is still of little use.

For human feelings are often selfish and self-serving. If we urgently seek equality in the people's enjoyment of life, the government must impose severe repression to restrain their selfish and self-serving minds. But once the pressure becomes too great, the people lose their freedom. Having lost their freedom, they will feel that life lacks interest and will resist the government all the more.

Therefore, if government repression is too severe, the people will readily revolt. But if it is too lax, the people will refuse to conform. Moreover, people often refuse to work diligently and strive hard, seeking only adequate food and clothing; nor will they be willing to develop their capacity for universal love.

Therefore, the best future economic system would be one that regulates property. The people may privately own property, but the government should impose limits so that it may not exceed a fixed amount. People's enjoyment may differ according to whether they strive or do not strive. But unreasonable enjoyment must certainly be restricted, and needless luxury and extravagance must certainly be strictly regulated.

People should be kept active without being allowed to become licentious. At the same time, the government should encourage public-service enterprises and scholarly inventions. In this way, the people's outlook can turn from the selfish consumption of the past toward valuing the public good and loving the community in the future. On the one hand, people should have an appropriate degree of freedom, so that their motivation to work diligently does not fade. On the other hand, the direction of their activities should be subject to appropriate restrictions, so that they can use their financial and spiritual resources only for public-benefit undertakings rather than for selfish and self-serving consumption.

As for the third chapter, how are the elderly to be cared for? There is no alternative but to teach filial piety, so that everyone develops the intention to care for and support their parents, while the state also establishes laws for elder care. When parents do not receive filial support from their children, they themselves or their relatives may make this known publicly, thereby admonishing the children. Or they may report the matter to the government, which can impose appropriate penalties. Then a system of elder care will naturally take shape. This is the way to provide security for the elderly.

These three chapters all take peace of mind as their primary concern. The kingly way goes no further than human feelings. If one can apply one's own psychology to human feelings and human affairs, it will spread everywhere like a resounding sound; the transformation toward a world of great unity is likewise founded on this.

Since China has been overrun by pernicious doctrines and seduced by material things, human deceit has emerged in every form, and people's feelings have suffered beyond description. Unless the problem is resolved at its root and a thorough method is established, matters will decline day by day until they can no longer be remedied. Every kind of evil phenomenon will proliferate and grow worse with each passing day. Confucius said, “When those above value ritual propriety, the people are easy to guide.” This strongly expresses that if those above do not value ritual propriety, those below will become still worse. Deceitful people and thieves will then become impossible to employ.

Without human feeling and righteousness, people will surely not love their country. Even if they rise to the rank of high minister and possess wealth equal to that of kings and nobles, they will merely add a few more Qin Hui figures. Thus those who serve as officials cannot fail to awaken to the mind's radiance.

Without human feeling and righteousness, members of a household and blood relatives will be like enemies, and cases of disputes over property and divorce will increase daily. Thus those who live in households cannot fail to awaken to the mind's radiance.

Without human feeling and righteousness, there will be no trustworthy people in commerce. Those with capital will not dare to invest; they will place their property in inactive holdings, where it will never circulate, and society will suffer immeasurable harm. Thus merchants cannot fail to awaken to the mind's radiance.

Without human feeling and righteousness, political parties and associations will have no loyal and trustworthy followers. Betraying one's friends will be regarded as perfectly natural. People will know neither shame nor what is fragrant or foul. They will inevitably purge their parties year after year and remain on guard at every moment—what kind of state of affairs is that? Thus those in parties and associations cannot fail to awaken to the mind's radiance.

Without human feeling and righteousness, the military will surely have no officers and soldiers of loyalty and courage; the danger is beyond words. Thus military personnel also cannot fail to awaken to the mind's radiance.

It is thus clear that, whatever one's field and whoever one may be, one must take awakening to the mind as fundamental. If the mind is not awakened, evil will have no end. Men will steal even without needing to, and women will prostitute themselves even without needing to. The calamities of a world of male thieves and female prostitutes are too painful to speak of further.

All the world's disasters arise from evil, and evil is created by the mind. If the mind is not awakened, evil karma not only does not cease but grows ever more intense. Therefore, to relieve disasters one must remedy their causes; to remedy their causes one should remedy the mind; to remedy the mind is to save oneself; and to save oneself, one must awaken to the mind.

There is no need to seek for everyone to become sages and worthies. So long as there are a few more good people and social customs improve somewhat, and everyone understands the terror of future calamities and seeks a fundamental method for settling the mind—so that they do not commit deceit because of present hardship, nor engage in unlawful acts out of resentment at temporary poverty—then lasting peace can naturally be preserved.

You should know that the natural and human-made disasters of recent years are not merely disasters of recent years; they are calamity-seeds created by people in the past. The many greedy and angry thoughts of ordinary days, together with more than forty kinds of evil minds, have filled the universe with their foul miasma. At the very least, they have produced a great epidemic. No matter how fierce or wicked you may be, you will ultimately be unable to escape this ordeal. How much better to urge everyone to cultivate the Eight Virtues; then disasters may naturally be dispelled and life prolonged. Is this not a most excellent and wondrous thing?

Someone may ask: What are the Eight Virtues?

The answer is: People must possess human feeling and righteousness, and put into practice the eight virtues of filial piety, fraternal respect, loyalty, trustworthiness, ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame, causing them to shine throughout the world.

This is what is hoped for from the youth, who are most precious, most lovable, and most full of promise.

Preface to the Postscript of Heart Radiance

Chaosheng Kuanfu has studied the learning of the mind with me for the past year, and I have truly seen his diligent progress. Having read a draft of my Heart Radiance, he suddenly gained a luminous entry into realization. He further questioned and debated it repeatedly, making the meaning ever clearer through mutual illumination.

Whenever we discussed the attainments of modern researchers into the learning of the mind, he said that they extend no further than the functions, phenomena, and changes of mind. They have never penetrated to the substance and source of mind, nor to methods for settling and regulating the mind; still less have they reached what the Nature School teaches. This single statement is already most penetrating. The student has surpassed the teacher, which is deeply gratifying. I therefore asked him to set forth all that he sees in this “Postscript to Heart Radiance,” to supplement what I have not covered, for the benefit of fellow practitioners and as an introduction. Recorded by Lay Practitioner Renzhi, Wang Xianglu.

(This essay was serialized in the semimonthly journal Enlightened Sentient Beings, issues 54–61, published from January through April 1942.)